


Medieval AU

by ArtlessComedic



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 09:05:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12701718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtlessComedic/pseuds/ArtlessComedic
Summary: Thunder rolled . . ....It is said that the gods play games with the lives of men. But what games, and why, and the identities of the actual pawns, and what the game is, and what the rules are-who knows?Best not to speculate.Thunder rolled. . . .It rolled a six.-Terry Pratchett (Guards! Guards!)





	1. Chapter 1

Edward sighed, trying to soothe his racing heart, and put his sword back in its sheathe. “No, my prince, the bee won't hurt you.” It was a good thing he drew it when the prince screamed anyway, he supposed; best to keep the reflexes sharp. He leaned over and took the other's hands, pulling him to his feet and helping to brush the dirt off of him while the royal wiped his eyes. “I'd be worried about wasps, but bees aren't interested in princes. You have nothing to fear.”

 

Prince Matthew Joseph had stunning green eyes, and fair skin and hair like wildfire. Freckles danced around his cheeks and forehead, and all down his arms. He was just a bit...unfortunate. He was very selfish, and seemed to only care about fun, his looks, and his fortune. He didn't have any interest in ruling Durdem Valley. He was...naive. And thankfully not old enough to rule anyway. His father, blessed be, had passed away, and the kingdom was being run by the current regent: Mark Joseph, Matthew's uncle. Mark didn't seem to have any interest in keeping the throne either; he was a little indifferent about the people, and couldn't wait for Matthew to turn eighteen so he could get the responsibility of regent off his shoulders.

 

Sir Edward Gold, knight of Durdem, was the personal bodyguard to the prince, and a very good one. He was always at Matthew's side, and took his job of protecting the heir very seriously. He was a head shorter than the prince, and wider in every aspect, and had built up muscle through rigorous training. He had thick brown curls, and one brown eye. The other seemed to be more of a mix of brown and blue, a hazel to match the moss that grew on the grey garden walls outside the palace.

 

“It could have bitten me! What would you have done then? Slain the entire nest?” Matthew asked him, folding his arms and frowning crossly at his knight.

 

“No, your highness, I probably would have taken you in to be treated.” Edward said patiently, kneeling beside the flowerbed. “They sting, sire, and die immediately after doing so. I doubt they consider you a threat worth their lives. All they're really interested in doing is helping the flowers grow.” He picked a rose and got up again, picking off the thorns before handing the blossom to the prince. “Come on, let's go back inside. It's about time for your studies to begin.”

 

“But they're so boring! Can't we stay here where it's nice?” Matthew pleaded, slipping the rose behind his ear. “An outdoor class! That sounds wonderful!” He clasped his hands together, fluttering hit eyelashes at Edward as if his charms worked on him. This time, they did.

 

Edward hesitated, but slowly he nodded, the corners of his lips twitching up into a smile. “Alright, my prince. But only until the rain begins, and then you're coming in, and you have to do your classes in the library. Deal?”

 

Matthew cheered, throwing his arms around Edward happily. In their joy, neither suspected that at that very moment, on the edge of a nearby village, a group of notorious bandits was plotting their biggest atrocity against the kingdom yet: the downfall of the prince.

 

\-----

 

“Oh for the love of- Tom! If you can't contribute to the group, we're going to leave you by the side of the road for the wolves!” Tord said angrily, nudging the man next to him with his elbow.

 

“Maybe I'd contribute more if you didn't treat me like an idiot!” Tom gave the other a shove, scowling at everything and seeing nothing. Tord retaliated by elbowing him again, this time hard enough to make him double over.

 

Tom had been a blind beggar on the street before he was picked up by the Reds, with dark skin and short brown hair that stuck up all over. No one was quite sure what happened that caused him to lose his eyes, and if they asked, he never answered. He could walk around alright for the most part, and always seemed to know just where Tord was, even if he held his breath. He was cynical and disenchanted with life, and probably drank a bit more than was healthy.

 

Tord was the leader of the Red Bandits, with brown-red hair that flipped up in the front and a generally vicious disposition. Blue eyes caught everything, constantly moving and taking in every detail. He was as beautiful as he was cruel, and to the people of Durdem Valley, he was merciless.

 

“Sir, you really shouldn't pick on the disabled.” Paul put in, a small frown on his face. “He's blind, it's not like we can put him on watch, or send him scouting for us.” Tom and Tord glared at him, and he raised his hands in defense. Paul was taller than Tord, but shorter than Tom. He had shaggy brown hair and thick eyebrows, and bags under his eyes. Having been the one to take in Tom in the first place, Paul seemed to hold a compassion that the others lacked- though he tended to direct most of it at Patryk, who was currently driving their carriage into town.

 

“Who are you calling disabled, ugly?” Tom growled, kicking up a foot and hitting Paul in the knee.

 

“Hey, only I get to hit him!” Tord yelled. (Paul noted that Tord had never, in fact, hit him or Patryk unless they really deserved it.) He pushed Tom against the wall of the carriage and held him there with his feet, pressing his own back to the opposite wall.

 

Tom swung his elbow into Tord's ankle, but he didn't have much of an effect through Tord's boots, and he really only got himself a kick in the side. “Fuck off, Tord!” He yelled.

 

A pounding sounded on the top of the carriage, likely Patryk telling them all to shut up, and Tord put his feet down. Despite being a fierce leader, Tord was not unable to take advice or criticism when he needed it. Tom, however, only seemed to be put on edge by the noise.

 

“Draw your blade.” He said softly.

 

“What the hell are you on about?” Tord frowned at him, surprise and anger pulling his features taut as Tom drew his dagger. “We're not going to duel in the carriage!” He shouted.

 

Tom ignored him and pounded on the roof with his empty hand, baring his teeth as the gesture was returned from above.

 

“That's not Patryk.” He hissed.

 

\-----

 

“Mark did good for the kingdom for once, by making us royal guards.” Eduardo grinned. “We'll get some action now!”

 

“I was kind of under the impression that we'd be working indoors, actually. Where it's safer.” Jon sighed, holding his cloak close. The emblem of the rose embroidered over his heart was bright red in the sun. He wore it proudly, but not without reservations.

 

“You're an idiot, Jon.” Eduardo glared at him. “I could send you back to the palace with two broken arms, how about that? And you can spend the rest of your life at home with your ma.”

 

Jon sighed, running his fingers through his short hair, brown in an uninteresting, plain way. But he had remarkable eyesight, and could see well even in the dark, and this made him useful for spotting bandits from a distance. “Unnecessary, sir.” He mumbled. He had thought, well, since he and Eduardo had grown up together, their homes only a stone's throw from each other, the darker skinned man would grow to be be more careful while on duty, carrying out dangerous missions for their mutual friend, the current regent. But the risks had only made Eduardo more volatile- a feat Jon had long since deemed impossible.

 

“Granted, you’d think a little nepotism would have gotten us sent somewhere more exciting,” Eduardo began, “but who knows? We could get lucky.”

 

The two were currently stationed on patrol towards the edge of town, where they could help any weary travelers (Jon’s favorite part), or put a stop to anyone suspicious (Eduardo’s favorite part).

 

They hadn’t been guards for more than three weeks and already they had done more fighting than the rest of their years combined- not counting the times they fought with each other. It was busy, dangerous work, but it wasn’t always like that; sometimes it was very rewarding, like when Eduardo caught his first bandit. A very proud moment for him, really. The skinny man had tried to hide from him in a crowd, but Eduardo never forgot a face. It was a gift, really.

 

“Do you hear that?” Jon asked suddenly, looking down the road. Rain from the heavy, dark clouds above began to fall, but he didn’t seem to notice. He checked the way to be sure it was clear, and stepped into the dirt road. “It’s...a carriage. And it’s going way too fast.”

 

Eduardo leaned up on his toes, peering out into the rapidly darkening road. Thunder rolled.

 

“Halt! By order of the royal guard!” Jon planted his feet firmly and held up his hand, the other on the hilt of his sword. The carriage rattled as it sped down the road, and Jon wondered, the thought just a flash in his mind, why there were two men on top of the carriage. Before a second had passed, and right as he made eye contact with the furious, rugged driver, Jon felt his cloak catch around his throat and choke him.

 

He made a sound akin to a “Ghrk-!” and then he was in the mud on his back, fighting to catch his breath and watching with wide eyes as the carriage thundered past.

 

Eduardo let go of Jon’s cloak and grabbed his shoulders, jerking him to his feet. “Idiot!” He roared over the rain. “You could have died!” He flagged down a carriage driver that was rounding another corner, and pulled him off the seat while Jon politely helped the passengers out and apologised. He had barely climbed into the seat beside Eduardo before the other man slapped the reins and urged the horses after the carriage.

 

“He had dark hair, and a scar over one eye!” Jon yelled, holding onto the railing as the carriage flew forward.

 

“What about the other two?” Eduardo shouted.

 

“Didn’t see their faces, only that they were fighting with knives.”

Eduardo swore, just loud enough to be heard over the rain.

 

“What is it?” Jon asked.

 

“One of them...I could’ve sworn...."

 

“Yes?” Jon urged.

 

Eduardo shook his head and slapped the reins again. “Nevermind it.” He focused on catching up to the carriage, and tried not to think about the man with all-black eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

“How doth the little crocodile improve his shining tail?” Edward read aloud from a thick book, pausing and glancing at Matthew, who only pouted. “Come on, your highness, the rain will pass,” Edward pleaded. “Until then, you must try to focus.”

 

Prince Matthew heaved a great sigh, ever dramatic, and waved his quill in the air in a way that made Edward think of a magician casting a spell. “And pour the waters of the Nile on every golden scale.”

 

“Very good. How cheerfully he seems to grin, how neatly spreads his claws...” He paused again, sending the prince an encouraging smile.

 

“And welcomes little fishes in with gently smiling jaws.” He muttered. “I still don’t get this stupid poem, Edd. Why don’t the fish just swim away?”

 

“You’re very clever, my prince, I know you’ll think of a meaning if you just apply yourself.” Edward said, sliding a bookmark between the pages and closing the book. “Think about it. The fish don’t even seem to notice they’re being eaten, do they? Otherwise they would escape. But the crocodile is so beautiful, so graceful, they don’t even notice the danger. By the time they do, it’s too late.”

 

“And this is important for me to know because...?” Matthew prompted.

 

“Because I can only do so much to protect you, your highness. I need to know you can trust your judgement.”

 

Matthew didn’t respond at all this time, and Edward sighed. “I know how much this sort of weather weighs on you, my prince. But it’s very important that you study so you can one day be the ruler your subjects need.” He said earnestly, and leaned back against one of the desks in the vast library. Prince Matthew sat in the desk before him, surrounded with books and papers, and infinite disinterest.

 

“Maybe I’ll be the crocodile, then.” He said, seemingly without hearing Edward’s words of encouragement. “I’ll be so beautiful, everyone will trust me, and I’ll have my advisors and Mark to do all the hard work.” He shrugged and sat back in his seat. “All I want is to be surrounded with riches, and people as beautiful as myself.”

 

“We don’t always get what we want, my prince.” Edward said tiredly. They’d been studying for an hour or so, and the steadily increasing rain was agitating them both. Matthew seemed to thrive in sunny weather, and became sullen and withdrawn during the rainy season, and especially in the winter, and Edward’s patience ran thin faster than usual when Matthew refused to even try.

 

“Maybe you don’t.” Matthew shrugged.

 

“Let’s...just move on.” Edward set the book down beside him and picked up the next one. “Agriculture, my prince, or geology?”

 

Matthew threw his hands up. “Does it really matter?”

 

“No, I suppose not. Let’s see...do you know why farmers trade their crops?”

 

“For the same reason we trade subjects?”

 

“Pardon?”

 

“Because they’re getting dull?”

 

\-----

 

Paul barely managed to get into the seat and get a hold of the reins, pulling them back and wrestling the horses back under his control. It was easier said than done, and he nearly ran over some idiot in the road as he struggled to steer. By the way the carriage rattled, he didn’t think he’d hit the man. Hopefully not.

 

“Paul, what the  _ fuck?!” _ Tom shouted, the pounding rain making the top of the carriage slick. His opponent used the distraction to lunge forward, but the bandit had switched hands, and brought his dagger into the man’s side. The thunder drowned out his scream as Tom twisted the curved blade.

 

“He’s the one that spooked the horses, not me!” Paul shot back, barrelling down the muddy road at break-everything* speed. He pulled the reigns again, gritting his teeth as they took out a post and a water trough as they slid through the mud on a sharp turn.

 

Tom dropped down and held the edge of the carriage, letting the dying man slide off and into the mud. “A warning next time would be nice!”

 

Paul growled. “Being able to see at all in this rain would be nice too, but we don't always get what we want, Tom!” He barked, and urged the horses on as he realised where they were heading. “Get inside, I’m going through the forest.”

 

Tom did as told for once, and slid in through the window boots first, at the same time the horses and the carriage went flying over the bridge. He fell inside, right on a dead man on the floor of the carriage. “Eugh.” He muttered, moving to the seat not occupied by Tord and their unconscious companion.

 

“The other two?” Tord asked sharply, holding onto Patryk’s shoulders as the carriage bumped what could only be a tree as they turned.

 

“Dead. One of em fell off before we got into the city, the other just a moment ago, at the last turn.”

 

“Great.” Tord grumbled. “Any clue who they were?” He asked. “This one had no answers.”

 

Tom hummed, the octave going up in the middle as Paul hit a bump. “One had an impressive moustache.”

 

Tord blinked, and then scowled. Well, you ask a silly question you get a silly answer. “Useless blind-”

 

“Hey.” Tom said sharply. “I killed them, didn’t I? And Paul’s driving, and Patryk is going to be okay. You didn’t even notice we got hijacked, so you better give credit where it’s due.”

 

Tord was quiet for a long moment. “I’ll thank you when Patryk wakes up.” He muttered bitterly.

 

Tom relaxed, if only just. For all his many, many shortcomings, Tord was a good leader, and cared about his crew. He took it hard when something went wrong, and often blamed himself if another got hurt.

  
  


*significantly faster than “breakneck” speed

 

\-----

 

Eduardo woahed the horses to a stop just before the bridge. They would’ve had to slow down for it anyway, or risk flying off, but there was no way the bigger carriage they had would have made that same sharp turn the suspects did through the trees.

 

“I think we lost them, Eddie.” Jon said, and Eduardo scowled.

 

“Damn it all.”

 

“Between the two of us, we can’t think of who they were?” Jon asked, taking his seat again as Eduardo turned the carriage around.

 

“You said one of them had a scar down one eye?”

 

“That’s right. Shaggy hair- brown.”

 

Eduardo clicked his teeth. “Sounds like a Red.”

 

Jon blinked. “You mean like- like Tord?”

 

All the soldiers had been made to go over the most wanted in the city, and those with criminal pasts, but the only Red any of them knew by face was Tord Leer. He had a legion of men under him, or important people who owed him favors or money, but no one knew any of his associates or men. If they did, they generally didn’t know it.

 

Eduardo shrugged. “Possible. But I mean that carriage-jacking isn’t an everyday crime, and we don’t know who else was with them. And the man with the scar sounds like the tailor that used to live on Water Street.”

 

“The one who disappeared?” Jon frowned. “I thought him joining the Reds was a rumor.”

 

“You can’t dismiss rumors for being rumors. You can only dismiss it if you find proof against it.”

 

Jon pulled his cloak tighter around himself as they drew back into town, and swallowed thickly. “Hey, Eduardo? Do we have to go look at the body that fell off the carriage?”

 

Eduardo was quiet. “You know we do.”

 

Jon didn’t answer.

 

The ride to the inn was quiet, and when they arrived, Jon gently urged onlookers back inside, and entered the inn to find the owner.

 

Eduardo knew instinctively, the moment he saw the crumpled body, that this was not the man with black eyes. Still, he had to be positive. He knelt down and turned the man over, letting out a sigh as the pale man stared up into nothing. He gently closed his eyes with two fingers, and checked his coat as Jon exited the inn.

 

“An assassin.” He said aloud, pulling a black button wound in red thread from the man’s breast pocket. “Anything on his identity?”

  
“No.” Jon shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying not to look at the blood that stained the mud and the dead man’s clothes. “But that’s one impressive moustache.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i dont know when or if this will be finished, it started as a drabble??? weeps


End file.
